


A Tasting, Of Sorts

by wishfulthinkment



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Blind Date, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 04:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17460311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishfulthinkment/pseuds/wishfulthinkment
Summary: alura discovers the sorry state of her friend's sex-life and decides to helpinspired by that tumblr post about the chick who sets up her friend-that's-never-had-an-orgasm with a "pretty dyke"





	1. Brunch & Bad Ideas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littlelamplight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelamplight/gifts).



“What, do you mean you've never had an orgasm!?”

 

Lillian jolts in her chair, nearly spilling her drink in her effort to shush her from across the table.

 

“ _Maybe_ \--” she hisses-- “you could shout that just a little louder in this crowded restaurant?”

 

Alura, just shy of wine drunk, leans in conspiratorially, voice lowered to a scandalised almost-whisper.

 

“You mean never? As in, never-ever?”

 

Lillian doesn't respond to that, just purses her lips and spears a chunk of melon rather viciously with her fork. 

 

Brunch was a Bad Idea.

 

Alura sits back in her chair, a stunned look on her face, gazing off into the middle distance. 

 

“I just really can't  _ believe-- _ ” 

 

“ _ Thank _ you, Alura.” She sighs and mutters down at her plate. “I don't even know why I tell you things if this is how you're going to--”

 

There's suddenly a hand covering her hand, and she looks up to see the face of contrition.

 

“No, I'm sorry. I just-- I didn't-- I never-- I guess I always assumed that you had…” she gestures vaguely at the whole of Lillian’s body, “y'know… all of that going on.”

 

Lillian thinks she may have just been complimented, but it's somewhat marred by how completely and totally humiliated she feels. She's never really enjoyed sex, not with any of her ex-husbands, and in the circles of women she used to move in that was more or less the norm. 

 

But now suddenly she has  _ friends _ .

 

Friends who apparently have immensely fulfilling sex lives. 

 

She can feel her cheeks burning, and with Alura still reaching over the table to hold her hand, she finds (to her horror) that her eyes are starting to burn too.

 

Her first husband had always said there was something wrong with her. 

 

Maybe he was right after all. 

 

* * *

 

 

The text came through midweek.

 

_ Alura: I've got someone I'd like you to meet. _

 

She frowned down at her phone. 

 

_ Meet, like how? _

 

The response was instantaneous.

 

_ A: Like in a sex way. _

 

Oh no. Oh no no no no.

 

_ Absolutely out of the question. _

 

Three dots appeared, disappeared and reappeared.

 

_ A: Just meet up for coffee  _

 

_ A: Pls _

 

_ A: For me? _

 

_ A: I just think you two could have fun  _

 

_ A: Okay I'm sending through their details _

 

_ A: Love you!! _

 

Lillian stares at her phone and the flurry of peach and tongue emojis in disbelief. She isn't quite sure what her friend means by them.

 

She isn't quite sure she wants to know. 

 

A throat clearing at the end of the table draws her attention. 

 

Lillian looks up at the rest of the boardroom, every single partner of the firm looking at her.

 

“Ms Luthor, are you with us?”

 

She's going to strangle Alura.

 

* * *

 

 

She’s alone in her apartment, it’s late in the week and she hasn’t bothered with turning all the lights on. She knows she should have eaten something before getting into that bottle of scotch but there’s nothing in the fridge and the delivery people know too much already.

 

God, she’s pathetic. 

 

She hasn’t replied to any of Alura’s texts, can’t bring herself to face her. She’d dreaded the thought of meeting up with any of Alura’s male acquaintances-- she knows all of them well enough herself and knows enough that she doesn’t want anything to do with them.

 

But then the contact had come through to her phone.

 

_ Lara _ .

 

Not a male friend.

 

Not a male friend at all.

 

So now she’s sitting in the dark, boozed up and staring at the contact in her phone.

 

She doesn’t know why she hasn’t just deleted it, doesn’t know why her thumb keeps hovering over the screen. Doesn’t know why there are butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

 

She’s not even into women. 

 

She isn’t. Not really. 

 

It’s just that she’s lonely and doesn’t know what an orgasm feels like. 

 

All she knows is too-large and too-rough hands and waiting for it all to be over. 

 

But maybe she’s curious.

 

Maybe she’s drunk and the thoughts of soft, gentle hands that she’s been pushing away since Wednesday aren’t being pushed away any more. 

 

It’s been so long since she’s felt wanted, as a woman.

 

She’s got nothing to lose but her dignity, and she hasn’t had any of that since Sunday’s brunch.

 

She lets her thumb hit the screen.

 

_ Hello. My friend Alura gave me your number. _


	2. Coffee & Sex-Type Things

Lillian didn’t know what she had been expecting.

 

Maybe one of Alura’s college friends, tall, tanned and Ivy League, or one of Astra’s army buddies, broad-shouldered and butch.

 

She’d sat in the back of the cafe for almost half an hour, watching people come in, wondering who it might be that would walk across to her table.

 

It’s not as though Alura’s friend was late. It was more that Lillian herself arrived to the cafe early.

 

Very early.

 

Some (Astra) might even have said too early.

 

But no length of time could have prepared her for the moment her date walked through the door.

 

There’s the overalls to contend with, and the boots and the crop top with the sleeves rolled up, brightly coloured in a stunning contrast with her dark brown skin. She’s tiny, but with a radiant smile, bare arms rippling as she props her sunglasses atop her head. Her apparent ease, bag slung over her shoulder, the way she stands, hand in her pocket as she looks around the room, Lillian’s mouth goes dry when their eyes lock and she realises that she’s the one this woman is looking for.

 

She had to look through the menu three times before she was actually able to read anything and now she's pretty sure her coffee has gone cold sitting in front of her, her hands too busy gripping onto her own thighs to bother with things like picking up a mug.

 

Lara is entirely charming and a painter and there's a smudge of bright blue on her cheek that Lillian’s is itching to reach out and wipe away. She somehow manages to hold up her own end of conversation and when Lara throws back her head and laughs at something she says she can feel her heart stop.

 

She's just so beautiful and Lillian knows she's staring, can't help it, like her heart is pouring out of her open gaze. For a moment she's isn't sure if Lara can tell, but then her voice drops down into a lower register and she winks at her.

 

Such a simple thing but it’s like her whole world has been tilted.

 

Her body is instantly flooded with heat and she’s frozen in place by the acuteness of it.

 

She swallows hard, blood rushing in her ears.

 

Lillian knows in that instant that she wants this woman to do things to her.

 

Sex-type things.

 

* * *

 

 

In the time it had taken to get from the cafe back to her apartment Lillian’s emotions had swung from exhilaration to terror and back again several times over. She let Lara through the door and instantly felt the shame crawl up her throat. She’s never had to think about how sparse and sterile her apartment is because she belongs in it. But Lara is none of the things that Lillian is, so vibrant and full of life that it almost seemed to echo in the empty space. She had to lean back again the door to gather herself, overwhelmed by how much she hadn’t wanted Lara to see this, how she lives. How she is.

 

Hollow.

 

Alone.

 

Lara turned back to her, letting her bag drop from her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

 

Lillian hadn’t known how to answer that.

 

They’d sat on a couch that was more aesthetic than comfortable, not quite close enough to touch, but close enough for her senses to be filled by Lara. Blood rushing in her ears, she’d intended to outline a plan for a future time when the two of them might possibly meet again. A time far enough in the future for Lillian to be prepared and maybe even composed. An indeterminate something that she’d be able to cancel, if need be.

 

She’d sat and stammered and rambled and Lara had sat and watched her, nodding and smiling and making noises of encouragement at all the appropriate junctions, a look of impossible warmth blossoming in her eyes.

 

Her sentence had trailed off into nothing when she realised that they were suddenly sitting closer together than they were mere moments earlier, that Lara was suddenly only inches away.

 

“...What?” she’d asked.

 

Lara smiled and leaned in to brush the hair back from her face, her dark eyes drawing Lillian in.

 

“I’d like to kiss you,” she’d said, and the slight touch where her hand lingers on her cheek is almost overwhelming. “Would you like to kiss me?”

 

Turns out, she had.

 

Which is how she arrived here, pressed back against the arm of the couch, one of Lara’s hands in her hair, the other beneath her shirt. The straps of Lara’s overalls long pushed down, revealing abs of steel that Lillian couldn’t keep her hands off of.

 

She’s never felt so good in her entire life and all her clothes are still (mostly) on.

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t that she stopped counting orgasms after the seventh, it was more that, after the seventh orgasm she could no longer remember what number came next.

 

After she’d had her seventh orgasm for the, what? Third? Fourth time? She simply gave up.

 

Her hand is gently pried away from where it’s covering her eyes, and Lara’s smiling face appears above her, haloed by light.

 

“--You okay there?”

 

Lillian tries to speak, she really does, but all she can do is moan and nod.

 

She hadn't thought much of the bag that Lara brought with her.

 

A floppy black sports bag, like she’d just come from the gym.

 

She didn't think twice until Lara reached for it when Lillian was half-naked and spread-eagle.

 

Turns out, it contained equipment for a different kind of workout altogether.

 

And now she’s shaking.

 

Literally and actually trembling.

 

Alura has obviously set her up with some kind of genius sex-wizard.

 

Lara laughs, “I’m a lesbian, actually.”

 

Oh no, she’d said that out loud.

 

Her embarrassment is abruptly arrested when Lara slowly rolls her hips and--

 

_God_ , she’s still inside her.

 

She’s so slick there’s no friction at all, but the cock that Lara selected is so big, so thick, and it hits such a good spot that her eyes roll back in her head. Her whole body shudders, and she wraps her arms around Lara to simply hold on.

 

“What do you want, Lillian?” She thrusts again, properly this time, and Lillian can hear herself cry out in need. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

 

There’s a tenderness in her voice and she nods because, though Lillian isn’t sure whether she can come again without dying, she feels like she might die if she stops.


	3. Eating Out & Takeout

Good News: she came again without dying.

 

Other News: she couldn’t come again without passing out.

 

Bad News: she wakes to an empty bed.

 

It takes her a minute to realise that Lara isn’t on her or in her or otherwise within arm’s reach. For the duration of that minute, her body limp and mind in a haze, she luxuriates in the afterglow. She can’t remember ever having felt so relaxed before.

 

Then the minute passes and she is aware that she is alone, again, and the pleasure is replaced by the weight of sadness. She sinks into the bed because, of course, she should have expected this. Curling up into a little ball at this point is more reflex than anything, it’s how she usually lies in this bed, after all.

 

But there’s a hand on her shoulder and it squeezes gently, and she turns to find that she isn’t quite alone as she thought. Lara, naked but for the harness, sits on the bed beside her and offers her a glass of water. Lillian accepts it in a daze, sitting up slightly to drink, trying and failing to keep her gaze from roaming over her body. The colour of her skin is as rich as the earth, and it glows with sweat from their… exertions. She’s strong, has the definition in her arms and shoulders to back up what Lillian has learned first-hand, but there’s a softness to her as well, her dark brown eyes, her radiant smile, the touch of her hands and the tone of her voice. Her eyes snag on the cock she’s still wearing, jutting up so proudly, and her body aches at the sight of it.

 

“Like what you see?” Lara leans towards her, cupping her face with one hand.

 

Lillian whimpers and nods as kisses her - her lips are cold from the iced water and she melts beneath them. She feels alive like she never has before, the hunger that has awoken in her body roaring back to life with the slightest of touches.

 

“I do-- you’re just-- I can’t--” Lara trails her lips down her neck and gently tweaks her nipple between her fingertips and Lillian’s beyond words yet again, the ache between her legs intensifying.

 

Lara, blessedly, understands and tugs the dildo from the O-ring, discarding it before pushing her down on the bed. She straddles her, kisses down her body, Lillian is lightheaded at sensation of a cold mouth against heated skin. The further down she kisses, the more it becomes apparent that there’s a cube of ice in her mouth, and the further down she kisses, the more it becomes apparent that Lara’s not coming back up any time soon. She settles herself between Lillian’s thighs and grins up at her.

 

“Better hold onto something.”

 

* * *

 

“You realise there’s nothing but vodka and week-old take-out in your fridge, right?”

 

She lays against Lillian’s side, propped up on one elbow, trailing her fingertips in a spiralling pattern across her skin. Lillian’s stomach growls audibly.

 

“I, uh… don’t usually have this kind of appetite.”

 

She smirks, “I find that hard to believe.”

 

“I didn’t mean that kind of--” she squints up at her-- “oh, don’t you tease me!”

 

Lara tilts her head back and laughs, a beautiful, joyous sound that makes Lillian’s stomach swoop and her heart soar. Her emotions seem to be doing whatever it is they want to do today, and what they’ve wanted to do so far has been Lara.  She’s not sure what any of this means, but she knows she wants more of it. It’s never really occurred to her that another person could make her feel as good as this.

 

Physically, yes, but also emotionally, which is more the odd thing.

 

It’s a whole new world opened up to her.

 

If this is what sex can be like, she’s not surprised people are so enthusiastic about it.

 

Lara looks at her, catching her staring, and Lillian just smiles at her, too blissed out for embarrassment. She’s not sure what comes next, what happens when they both leave this bed, and for once she’s not bothered by an uncertain future. Once upon a time, uncertainty brought anxiety - not know when the next blow would strike, when the other shoe would fall.

 

But Lara...

 

Every conceivable possibility would be a delight.

 

Even the possibility that this is it, that they leave this room and go their separate ways, that would be enough. Just to exist in this moment, in this bubble of peace and happiness and pleasure, might be enough to sustain her for the rest of her life.

 

Lara’s brow crinkles. “What?”

 

“Oh. It’s nothing.” Lillian shrugs. “Just happy, that’s all.”

 

It isn’t nothing, but Lara doesn’t need to know that.

 

“Okay,” she says. “But I’m hungry too, so I’m gonna go call for delivery.”

 

* * *

  

By the time Alura remembered to charge her phone there were three missed calls with respective voicemails and nine text messages. She rolled onto her side, and flicked the screen to expand the first notification from-- she squints at the screen--  _six am?_

 

_Lillian: If it seems like I’m going along with this ridiculous idea of yours, you’re wrong._

 

_Lillian: I’m being polite._

 

_Lillian: And sociable._

 

_Lillian: It’s NOT because I’m “in desperate need of a fucking” as your sister so charmingly put it._

 

_Lara: u didn’t tell me how tall she was_

 

_Lara: u could have prepared me_

 

_Lara: y didnt u prepare me_

 

Alura smirked to herself. In her defense, it wasn’t really possible to be prepared for just how tall Lillian was. She can still remember the first time she saw her stand in court to defend a client. Both time and her brain had both stopped dead. If Alura hadn’t already been a married woman their friendship might have progressed quite differently.

 

There’s a gap of a few hours between Lara’s last text and the first of her voicemails.

 

_Alura, It’s Lara. Call me back._

 

Very to the point, abrupt in the way her friend is when she’s mildly panicked.

 

The next call is less than a minute later.

 

_C’mon Alura, stop fooling around and answer your phone, it’s an emergency. There’s nothing in the fridge and I need to know what food she likes._

 

_You’re killing me here Alura. Help a girl out. Please?_

 

_Lara: nvm i found a takeout menu on the bench_

 

Some time later there’s another voice mail, this time from Lillian. She’s not sure what she’s bracing herself for when she plays it, but she sure wasn’t expecting the sounds of unfettered ecstasy that issue forth. Woken by the noise, her wife rolls over in the bed and spoons up behind her. Alura shushes her and they both listen in on the rest of the message.

 

A butt-dial, so to speak. But man... what a butt-dial.

 

Then, a final text.

 

_Lillian: u yhingh thar ernt wepp hdklads_


End file.
